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Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Because I'm not gonna lie: it sounds like foreskin, and that's just creepy as hell.

Also, while it's possible penises (penii??) can help with weight loss (sex is exercise, right?), all I can think of here is some alchemical potion of foreskin and lanolin. Some creeptastic grizzly wizard in moldy robes, frantically stirring a stinky distillation in his dungeon, looking for a get-gold- quick scheme to sell to royalty?

What is WRONG with the people who thought this one up?

Um, if I'm the only one who sees it, I'll concede the probability that there's something wrong with me.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Listen up people. A couple weeks ago I specifically asked if THIS is a snake den:

﻿﻿﻿﻿

.I HAVE A SNAKIPEDER IN MY GODDAMNED GARDEN!

Tonight I discovered it INDEED IS...when I brought boxes out the front door and SAW the bastard's head sticking out of the hole. Do you KNOW how many holes there are in my front garden along the walkway? Lots. Enough that he clearly has a while fricken network under there...and he was LOOKING AT ME. If I can get an actual picture (without getting eaten) tomorrow, I will. And no, I couldn't see enough of his head to tell if it was one of the three that can kill me here.

I am not impressed. Husband and family are amused. I hate everyone. That is all.

Moving on.

I missed two Mythic Mondays because I had a cold from hell. Therefore, I'm returning some hellishness in tonight's MM, in honor of my favorite season AND the season two premier of Sleepy Hollow, which I adore. Tom Mison's Ichabod Crane is NOT the weasely, big nosed, wimpy dude in Washington Irving's tale: his interpretations of the silliness of modern culture (compared to 1776) is fantastic. In addition, being the mythology freak I am I LOVE where the writers took the Headless Horseman tale...but that's all I'll say since spoilers are just rude.

So. Washington Irving wrote a short story in the 1820 called The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. If you haven't read it, go forth and get it for Halloween: it's wonderful. It's not the original: it's just the first American version of the tale of a headless horseman.

Irving's Horseman was a Hessian (Germanic) mercenary fighting for the British in the American Revolution whose head was removed by a cannonball. Cursed, he rides the roads around Sleepy Hollow, searching for his head and generally causing havoc...including taking heads. It's entirely possible the Galloping Hessian started during the war as terror propaganda, after all, and Irving only wrote the story down forty years later: no reason he wouldn't have heard some handed down scary tale from an old war veteran when he was a child. What better way to demonize the losing side than by making a monster out of their soldiers?

But Sleepy Hollow wasn't the first town to get a Headless Horseman. The Grimm boys found a Headless horseman tale in their wanderings around Germany. Yes indeedy: the same Germany which produced the Hessian mercenaries...it's possible our legend came over to America with them, or with the Dutch settlers in New York. Interestingly, The Grimms reportedly SAW the Horseman...twice. Quite impressive, really: HH in every version was pretty darn violent and heads were generally taken.

In Ireland the HH was Dullahan: a SERIOUSLY TERRIFYING headless man in black who chases down people on Halloween and throws buckets of blood. If the blood hits you, or if he calls out your name, you're going to die the next day. This is not a children's story villain who throws scary carved gourds at people and runs away. Much like the Banshee, only more aggressive (no wailing for this guy), Dullahan and Banshees are sometimes seen together, chasing people down in a chariot pulled by six black horses and using a human SPINE as a whip.

In any case, the Galloping Hessian of Sleepy Hollow may be the first Headless Horseman legend in the Americas, but he's definitely not the last. Many states have a version of the creature in some Halloween tale. In Texas there's a legend of a beheaded horsethief who wanders the countryside on a grey horse. (Maybe he'll come take care of my snake problem). Even Disney got in on the HH act, not only with an Ichabod Crane cartoon but with the Horseman showing up places like Fantasia and Mickey's House of Mouse.

I personally suspect the HH is a throwback to legends of The Wild Hunt. Truly, The Hunt deserves its own blog post which is in the works for October, as there are variations of the Gods and/or the Fae (depending on your area) tearing across the countryside (and woe to they who get in the way, or even SEE). But I do see some connections between a Headless Horseman who haunts and chases down night travelers in vengeance for his violent death and the Fae riding down the unwary, who are never seen again.

Bottom line? If you hear thundering hooves on Halloween night, run like hell and don't look back. It could be the Horseman, come to collect your head.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Turns out it's "web worms" (a couple people called them silkworms, but I didn't see any silk...just gross maggoty things that moved in time with the beat of Chewy's feet as he walked by).

Husband thinks Chewy is purposefully amassing an army of worms to create air-support (as they do eventually turn into moths, after eating all the leaves off my maple).

I think it'd take a LOT more than two nests of about thirty worms each to turn into enough moths to pick that dog's monstrous fluffy form off the ground.

Anyway, like any good interneter I found various solutions to my webby worm issues (other than calling an exterminator, which would be really stupid for two baseball-sized nests in low branches I can cut out myself):

1) open the webs to let wasps/birds get to the worms to eat them.

How about FUCK NO I'm not putting my fingers anywhere near that webbing. Nope no nopedy nope.

2) Open the web (what part of NOPE did the list miss??) and spray roach/bug killer into the nest.

Saturday, September 06, 2014

I've been watching Netflix streamed crime shows lately, particularly ones from other countries. Oddly enough, it was in a serial killer show with Gillian Anderson (SCULLY!!) and Jaime Dornden (OnceUpon a Time, 50 Shades) that has boiled down the best description of everyday sexism I've ever seen.

Gillian Anderson, a special police investigator, is being questioned by her boss (a man) for her (completely consensual) one night stand with another cop. She responds thusly:

Monday, September 01, 2014

Help Wanted: small brownish creature willing to help clean my house, ride the dogs around in the middle of the night, organize as necessary, and remain hidden. Payment: various foodstuffs including porridge (when available), honey, chocolate, and heavy cream. Lodging and privacy included. Tolerance for iron in the house required.

People, I desperately need a Brownie.

I spent a good chunk of my weekend organizing and cleaning, and it's completely true that those with children and dogs are just wasting their time on a wheel of frustration when attempting to clean. And therefore, tonight I'm lamenting the overabundance of iron in my house and the utter lack of brownies, whom I'd GLADLY leave treats if one graced my home with her presence.

If you google "Brownie" you'll get a variety of tasty baked goods...as far as I know these do not clean. In fact, I've proven on many occasions baked brownies have a magical ability to increase pounds but absolutely no ability to clean. They are terribly underwhelming as domestic help, except for easing crankiness brought on by chocolate cravings.

No, I'm referring to the small Fae people-ish creatures who, in Scots-Irish folklore, are rather famously helpful in the home as long as they're properly cared for. Brownies are often considered a member of the Hob family (as in, hobgoblin, only benevolent): a small, shy creature who aids in household tasks if rewarded with food. Most often, porridge and honey, although those two options date back to the days when porridge and honey were pretty standard household fare. I wonder if Lucky Charms would work, or if it would just piss them off?

You do NOT want to piss off the creature who helps keep your house tidy and organized. Seriously. Bad things happen to people who abuse the Fae in general...particularly a human-like creature the size of a lemur who just happens to know ALL the secrets and ALL the places in your house to hide things.

Brownies traditionally don't have any interest in being seen: they're active at night when the family is asleep, and live in unused parts of the house. For a time it was custom to leave a seat open by the fire in the kitchen for the resident Brownie, in thanks for their protection and work (along with the ever-important food offerings, which are a must to keep your Brownie happy...I really can't stress the food thing enough).

Unfortunately, Brownies, like all the Fae, have a severe aversion to iron. This means burying a nail under the threshold of your front door or hanging a horseshoe in your home will keep brownies (along with the rest of the Fae) at bay. Oh, did you think the horseshoe thing was a luck attractor? I suppose it was...as it was considered lucky to be passed over when the Fae are around, since they're somewhat capricious and not at always kind. I suppose it's the price to pay for keeping out kobolds, hobgoblins, and other nasties...but I DO sometimes wish modern homes were built without nails.

I need some household help, and I have plenty of Lucky Charms, milk, and honey to spare.